“You will all die unless you leave with the rest today.”
He caught a few nervous glances look back towards the town behind them.
“And you will be valuable to them. They will need warriors for the journey. You will not be showing any cowardice. Any who want to leave, leave now and live good lives.”
He waited a moment and corrected himself.
“Live great lives.”
Stefan stood up and looked around. His head dropped and he muttered how sorry he was before leaving the gap and disappearing across a little wooden bridge and into one of the narrow side streets. Erroh didn’t blink but inside he regretted the loss of his skills. Another brave soul stood up and followed and then two more quickly followed. Fewer walked away than he had expected. He knew the ones that stayed had a greater chance of holding their nerve and the line. It would be all about holding the last line.
“They were the smarter ones,” he jested when the last sound of footsteps were lost in the wind. A few laughs accompanied his attempted wit and he nodded in approval. He met each man’s eyes and sized them up. They were weathered by fear or age and dressed in loosely tailored armour with inadequate blades strapped to their waists. They were inspiring. He had no flames of hope to offer but he could add a little spark. It was time to reward the brave ones with the truth.
“My name is Erroh and I am the son of Magnus.”
He glanced to Lea hopefully and then back at the awestruck men. He drew the sword of his father to add credence to his claim. It felt lighter in his grip. He stabbed the blade deep into the grassy ground and stood back for all to see the crest of the Puk horns.
“Some of you might recognise this,”
It wasn’t even his father’s favourite blade. Nor his favoured weapon of choice but the crest was both feared and revered throughout the world. A few recognised the sword immediately. He heard someone mention “Mercy from the Savage Isles.”
It was a sword fit for a king.
In truth and in war, it was Magnus any wise soldier wanted fighting at their back, regardless of affiliation. And now from nothing, they had been gifted his apprentice. They’d all seen his ability in sparring. Only a warmonger would choose to stay and fight with strangers and only a champion could rise to leader of that line. When he spoke, it was hard not to listen. They would stand with the great son and kill as many as they could, because he told them to.
“We will not scream as they strike us down. We will not cry out as we bleed until empty and we will not flee when our comrades fall in front of our eyes. I lied to you, brothers. We will not be forgotten when we step into the darkness. Every single man who fights and dies beside Magnus’s son will be remembered. There will be songs of bravery for each of you.”
He paused and eyed them once more. They hung on his every word for they had nothing else.
“I give you my word. Our deaths will raise the great man from his slumber. Magnus will march once more and in the end, every single barbarian who attacks this town will perish a just and terrible death,” he roared before dropping to one knee in front of his comrades.
In his mind, it was a speech worthy of his father. Perhaps his father would have cursed more.
There was no outburst of camaraderie, no outlandish cheering, and wild jests directed at their vanquishers. There was just stony silence. Maybe their prejudice against Magnus had blinded them. Maybe their ignorance ran deeper than a mocking festival. Maybe he had said too much or indeed too little. Maybe he had said the wrong thing. He normally said the wrong thing. This time he just about got it right.
One warrior took a knee and bowed in reply. Another beside him followed suit. One by one, they dropped to their knee and offered complete fealty. A few warriors lanced the ground with their own swords. No words were offered but the feeling was shared. They would be as good a warrior as their leader. They would do as he did.
“We have a lot of work to do before the storm arrives,” he said grinning.
Four barrels was enough. It had to be enough. That said, Erroh wasn’t familiar with the combustibility of lantern oil so he counted the barrels again. There were definitely four barrels standing side by side. He hoped it would be enough. He and Quig rolled one barrel each of the thick black liquid down the slope towards the clustered tree line where Lea had struck the arrows. Villagers not tasking themselves with the great evacuation collected thin slivers of tinder and placed them along the slope but the truly gruelling part of their preparation was placing sharpened stakes as tall as themselves into the ground from valley wall to water’s edge right down the slope. The stakes were wide enough for any man to slip through but it would nullify any cavalry charge. At least for a time. Precious time. This battle was never about winning. It was about time.
“This will warm their hearts eh?” laughed the big man dipping a paintbrush into the opened lid and lathering the side of a tree. After a few clumsy strokes, they moved onto the next. Drips of dark fluid trickled down the trunk and rested on the roots like a black cancerous river dying the bark a terminal sickly colour. Both men spent the afternoon coating trees while the rest laboured with the massive spikes. By nightfall, the delightfully named “slope of death” was complete.
Emir sat opposite Jeremiah and Aireys as the citizens of Keri wept their sorrowful goodbyes. It was near dawn, he was exhausted, bitter, and what they asked of him was bullshit.
“This is bullshit Aireys, there’s no way I’ll do it,” he shouted. How could he be the mayor proxy?
Jeremiah said nothing. He was pale and looked like he hadn’t slept in a long time. Relinquishing his title was the last order the Holy Mayor wanted to ever make, as it allowed Aireys the opportunity to just reach out and grasp it but she had little intention of claiming such things. Instead, she was choosing to die.
“We trust you to do it and it’s only temporary,” she said and Jeremiah nodded. She placed her beautiful calloused hands on each of his cheeks. That usually worked.
“If it’s only temporary?” he conceded. They’d been working at him for over an hour. He looked into her beautiful eyes and knew these were the last words they would speak. She loved her people more than she loved herself. More than she even loved him.
“You care for them until we meet again,” she lied.
It was a beautiful lie.
Erroh couldn’t face the sadness any longer. Lea had returned home to their loft a little time earlier to bathe and sleep and without her at his side, he felt his spirit drop, seeing families’ tears as brave warriors said goodbye. He walked home and instead of climbing in to bed, washed the aroma of oil and sweat from his exhausted body in the well by their barn. Holt had packed up and left but the thoughts of taking his quarters left a bitter taste in his mouth. The barn would suit them just fine for the now. When he’d scraped most of the grime and pollutants from the day’s exertions away, Erroh stepped into the barn as quietly as possible. He could smell her perfume from below and he inhaled deeply.
“Please tell me that that’s you, Erroh,” a voice from above called down.
“It’s Stefan, coming to claim his prize,” laughed Erroh donning his undergarments.
“Oh great. I had hoped you would visit before you left. We have a little time before my smelly mate gets here,” she laughed.
“I’ll only need a few moments. I’m grand champion.”
Erroh hopped up onto the ladder a little clumsily. His breath smelled of alcohol after accepting a few toasts to the health of line of Magnus. He climbed the ladder and took a moment to appreciate the new lighting she had decorated the room with. The candles were lit in little glass jars in each corner. They flickered and swayed and danced like they were enchanted. He knew how they felt.
She was sitting upright, leaning forward with her knees pressing into the soft straw. She let the sheets slip down slowly, past her shoulders and then to her exposed breasts. After a few breaths, when she was satisfied that he had taken in enough of her upper half, she let the sheet
s fall away revealing the rest of her incredible body. She smiled suggestively and waited for him to come and claim his prize.
She was the most beautiful creature in the world and he wanted to take her. He wanted to rip his one garment off and pull her body as close to his as possible. And get even closer. He stepped towards her and said the wrong thing.
“Lea, I can’t.”
Her face turned from excitement to puzzlement, to surprise to sadness and finally embarrassment.
At least she wasn’t angry.
“What do you mean?” she cried suddenly aware of how naked she was. This was supposed to be a divine moment shared between them both. Was he ruining everything again?
He was.
“I want to,” he said, stepping forward and reaching out for her. “But I can’t.”
She crossed her arms to cover her breasts and swiftly reached down for the sheet to recover what dignity she could. She had almost forgotten how shit he could make her feel sometimes. Almost but not quite. Maybe she should have kissed him a few times first? Tonight was supposed to be unforgettable. Now this moment was unforgettable. Thoughts of Lillium flashed in her mind. Had Lillium ever been this embarrassed when she took her mate to bed? She missed her friend. She wished she wasn’t naked. Her shoulder was a little sore. She didn’t want Erroh to die. Life wasn’t fair at all.
“I’m sorry,” she said dejectedly and frowned at the voice of a girl she didn’t recognise at all.
“No Lea, I’m sorry,” he pleaded, sitting down beside the partially veiled goddess. Her perfume teased his senses and his head was spinning, just sitting beside her. A part of his mind was tearing down his walls of resolve. He knew he was being a fool, even more so than normal. Take the goddess, a little voice ordered him. Take her in every way imaginable and achieve as much pleasure with her as you possibly can. The little voice kept going. He wanted to pleasure her, he really did. He ignored the voice.
Then he gave his second speech of the day.
“I haven’t been good enough to you, I’ve hurt you and put you in this danger,” he whispered and raised his hands up to quiet her protestations. “I need to say this beo,” he said gently and she nodded resentfully and let him continue.
“When I fall, give me your word that you flee no matter what else occurs.”
She didn’t reply. She just held the sheets around her but her eyes suggested that this wasn’t the time to speak about such things.
“When they kill me, promise me that you’ll live on,” he said. He reached out to touch her cheek. It was warm.
She closed her eyes taking in his touch but said nothing.
“You deserve a proper chance at happiness,” he whispered gently. He brushed his fingers through her shimmering black hair. She didn’t want to melt under his touch but it was Erroh’s touch. Fuk you and your touch Erroh.
“You deserve a chance at happiness with someone else,” he whispered.
She opened her eyes and whipped his hand away.
“No,” she hissed loudly. “You’re my mate,” she said pushing at him aggressively.
“And I am thankful to the gods you chose me,” he said accepting the shove.
“Fuk you Erroh,” she cried. How could he?
“If I do one thing right by you, it will be this,” he said getting up and sitting as far away from her as possible. “If our mating remains without all gifts shared, you become a far more appealing choice of mate,” he mumbled weakly.
“You said you would never hurt me Erroh,” she said weeping and hating herself for it.
“I love you with all my heart Lea. I’m sorry,” he said.
“I love you with all my heart too, Erroh and I’ll stay alive for you, but I pledge I will never love another after you,” she snapped bitterly. She knew his expression. She had seen it a few times and she knew he would not be moved. Even if it was breaking her heart. Even if it was breaking his own.
They sat in the candle light and feared for each other as a harsh wind battered at the barn wall. Eventually she sat down beside him. Their situation was too horrible to stay annoyed at him for too long. Admittedly, she could see his ridiculous thinking. Countless men had wanted after her in the city and certainly, there had been wonderful charming moments when temptation had nearly swayed her judgement, but all who had tried had failed to get what her mate was rejecting outright. No pretty boy or handsome man had been of real interest to her until the day she had seen her Erroh. She had known in that moment that he belonged to her, even if he did absolutely everything imaginable to fuk it all up.
Despite their difficult beginnings and all the tears, the last few months had been all she hoped her life would be. This was who she was now. She knew he was going to die and it terrified her but she would be strong, like he was strong for the town. If he wanted her story to continue, while his reached its conclusion, then so be it. She would hold back the tears when he fell and she would honour his request.
After a time, they lost the need to argue. They lay beside each other in the warm straw and listened to the howling wind outside. She was covered by the bed sheet but he could still make out wonderful shapes under the thin veneer. She nestled into his shoulder and listened to his heartbeat for a time. He leaned in and kissed her on the lips. She accepted and kissed him back passionately.
“Just a few kisses,” he said between breaths.
“If you insist my love,” she said letting the sheet drop below her waist again. She pulled gently and playfully at the solitary clothing that guarded her prize. “There are other things we can do that in theory don’t fully count,” she whispered before biting his ear gently.
His resolve was shattered as he dared a gentle exploratory touch of her skin. Every part of her form was perfect. She reacted with pleasure from his touch and he from hers as she finally stripped his clothing free. Lost in her eyes and her taste he was intrigued by just how far the term “in theory,” was going to take them.
The Champion of Keri
Erroh stood and watched them hard at work. If it was heavy and bulky, it was useful for the blockade. A few wooden stakes had been buried deep into the muddy ground to hold everything in place and it did the trick. The blockade became a chaotic wall of barrels, furniture, carts, and sacks more than fifteen foot high. Along the top, they hammered countless rows of thick timber planks and draped thick carpets atop leaving a grand walkway. It was easier than expected with an entire town to call upon for materials. He felt relaxed and his eyes turned to watch the clouds overhead. He didn’t mind the sharp bracing wind but a heavy downpour would ruin his entire day. He let no such worry show on his face though for today he enjoyed the quiet and a weakness in the knees. He sipped at his cofe and walked down the slope towards the tree line tipping his hands against every brutal spike lining the riverbed along the way, beautiful wooden beasts protruding from the ground like vicious godly fingers. They reassured him with their ugly presence. He tested the bark at the treeline and began painting a fresh coat. After a while, Quig and Aireys joined him. They offered few words and Erroh didn’t push. They were missing those closest to him. There was nothing to be said and still plenty to be done.
Jeremiah spent all day offering prayers up to the gods and sharpening blades. He was covering himself on both counts. He jested at the idea of Keri delivering a little taste of “hell” to their enemy before sending them there. Erroh didn’t understand his old religious term but it was a grand word to say aloud. As the last day ended and the shattered moon reared its head, the heroes of Keri were ready to face the oncoming hoard. At midnight, the first watch climbed out along the top of the blockade with torch in hand. The duo walked the wall and whispered anxiously with each other, careful not to trip or wake those around them. They knew there would be no attack as no Regulator had returned heralding their doom, but their general had required a watch, so they watched the night and wondered how many miles the town had already travelled. It was the only thing to stave off the despair. Few slept s
oundly the first night. Most warriors kept constant vigil along the gap and counted the hours. Their gaze never travelled far from the tree line while high above the small garrison of Lea’s archers sat between both ledges of the valley wall peering out across the land. A few other sentries were posted on the far side of town where there was no blockade. They kept an eye on the road to ensure no foe crept up and slit their throats while sleeping. Dark thoughts entered every man and woman’s mind of the battle to come, but few spoke such fears aloud and while every hour gained was a blessing from the absent gods, this great wait was enough to strike the first blows of madness.
The first night passed.
Then the next day.
And the day after that.
By the fourth morning, Erroh’s hands no longer shook. He had no more adrenaline to spare. His mind was clear of thoughts except for the treeline and the hours’ passing. Looking at the tired faces of his brothers, he could see many of them were as single minded as he but others were restless, as the uneasy quiet took hold and took over. War was war, but desolation was another thing. Another day or two of this delay and dissenting voices would begin as whispers. Whispers to words, to rational, and then to retreat. Aye, they would have a point, but even if a week passed and they all fled the wall, whatever army marching towards them would catch the town’s scent and easily track them down. No, it was best to wait here and give the fukers a bruise or two while they had the chance. He wondered would he still feel this way a few days from now.
What would his father do?
He climbed down from the ramparts and walked down the slope of death over the clumps of straw and strips of kindling, avoiding the spikes as best he could. He could feel the eyes upon him but he did not look back. He reached the bottom of the volatile slope and faced the dark woods beyond. Somewhere beyond the enemy neared and they weren’t going to hurry themselves despite the welcome the town was planning.
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